


the sweetest release might take a while

by davenpitts



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Alternative Universe - FBI, Bottom Leon S. Kennedy, Character Study, F/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, POV Alternating, Sexual Content, leon's muscle shirts, my horniess for leon can be seen in ada's pov oops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-02-19 05:36:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22105942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/davenpitts/pseuds/davenpitts
Summary: Federal Agent Leon S. Kennedy has been tasked with watching Ada Wong through her phone and computer cameras. Little did he know, however, that she was doing the same thing.Playlist
Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Ada Wong, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 57





	1. 'cause when you look like that, i've never ever wanted to be so bad

**Author's Note:**

> happy 2020, dear readers!  
> alright so i'm fairly new to the resident evil fandom. so far i've played 1, 2 remake, 4 (the best in the series don't @ me), 5, & 6, & i've seen all 3 cg movies, but i'm a big fan despite being a new one. i've even made a couple friends as well as convinced another to check out the series. i've been meaning to write this fic since i played 6 over the summer & fell in love with aeon. i've been wanting to write a "AU in which person a in *insert ship here* is a fbi agent who watches person b through their computer" fic for a while now. i've also been wanting to write a cop x criminal AU for a while too, and what better ship for that type of fic than aeon?  
> also, i had the hardest time ever picking which leon I wanted to use in this fic; there's so many! i was debating between the depressed, alcoholic leon we see in vendetta, the more innocent leon we see in 2 remake, & the cocky, badass leon we see in 4. i went with 4 leon, because as i mentioned earlier 4 is my favorite game in the series as of yet, & re 4 leon just hits different, ya feel?  
> i have the major hots for leon (who doesn't?), so I apologize in advance if, when writing in ada's pov, i talk about his muscles or his hair for paragraphs on end. i'll try my best not to though! lastly, as i'm new to the fandom, i apologize if there's any mischaracterization.  
> fic title comes from "style" by foster the people :)

Ever since he was a kid, Leon Scott Kennedy had wanted to be a cop.

Instead he worked for the FBI, which was considered by many to be the better profession but was considered by Leon to be a glorified desk job.

Turns out his college classmates who’d stuck tape to their webcams weren’t paranoid after all—American citizens actually were assigned FBI agents to keep tabs on them through their computer, phone, and tablet cameras. Not _every_ citizen was unknowingly assigned an agent, of course—that would be unrealistic, not to mention costly. And possibly dangerous—while many organizations were picky about who they let work for them, the FBI was doubly so. Leon’s background check had been so extensive he felt as though the FBI knew him better than he knew himself.

Rather, only citizens who’d committed crimes in the past or those who exhibited felonious tendencies were given a pair of FBI agents to observe them at all times. Well, _almost_ at all times—their privacy was respected whenever they pissed, shat, slept, showered, or had sex. Leon hated when Brett Fletcher, the man to whom he’d been assigned, had shower sex with his girlfriend; he could’ve spent those fifteen minutes on break, dammit.

The agent who kept tabs on Brett whenever Leon had a day off was Helena Harper. She, too, was under the impression they’d be out and about, not holed up inside like hermits. Though they were both resigned to a life with the FBI, he could tell she also fantasized about working elsewhere.

Part of Leon wanted to message his former classmates on Facebook with the sole purpose of informing them that they might as well unpeel the duct tape from their MacBook cameras—their FBI agents still watched them listen to the same song fifty times in a row and jack off to porn, even through the thickest layers of tape. And even if they couldn’t, an agent could still watch a citizen through their phone’s front facing camera, as no one ever covered those with tape. How else would they take selfies or unlock their phone via Face ID?

He would’ve told his former classmates all this and more, had the information not been classified. Classified to the general public, anyway. Leon supposed it was both exhilarating and aggravating, knowing information the majority of the population didn’t—exhilarating because he felt like one of those spies in those movies he used to love and aggravating because he couldn’t tell anyone about his day.

Not that he had anyone to talk to about his day, anyway—he lived alone in a modest apartment and had no one he could call his friend. Other than his neighbor Claire Redfield, who was friends with practically everybody. Must be the humanitarian in her.

Not that his job was anything like the movies, either. When he wasn’t observing Brett Fletcher, he was filling out stacks of paperwork detailing his days, which usually consisted of him going to work, after which he would drink cheap beer and watch TV until he passed out. Leon’s life was as monotonous as Brett’s, maybe even more so. At least Brett had a girlfriend.

“I thought working for the FBI would be like _The_ _X-Files,_ you know?” He had once told Claire over coffee and chocolate croissants. While he couldn’t reveal to her what his job entitled per se, he _could_ tell her how infuriatingly boring it was.

“You mean you thought you’d be fighting monsters and the like?” Claire chuckled into her coffee. “I hate to break it to you, Leon, but those aren’t real.”

“No, I—” Leon took a moment to gather his thoughts, taking a sip of his own coffee before continuing, “I thought I’d be out in the field, cracking cases that’d be talked about for decades. Not sitting at a desk all day like an office worker.”

Claire leaned forward in her chair, intrigued. “You really just sit at a desk all day?”

Leon leaned back, wondering if he’d said too much. “Yeah. If I’d known I would’ve just become a cop.”

But Leon hadn’t endured endless months of training to up and quit. He outshined his coworkers in any way he could in hopes that he’d be promoted to another position, one that didn’t involve sitting at a desk for long hours. But alas, the only praise he received was a slight raise—$39.38 to $39.45 an hour. Not bad, considering most people had to work four hours or more to make that much, but Leon would’ve preferred a promotion. It was months before he finally got one, though it wasn’t what he’d been expecting.

Leon had been on his break one day—Brett was napping—when his supervisor, Ingrid Hunnigan, suddenly entered. She could not have come at a worse time—he was eating a banana, of all things. So much for trying to look cooler than everyone else.

“Agent Kennedy, my office please.”

Leon stood up so fast his head spun, swallowed his bite of banana before he could choke on it, and followed her to her office. The way there, Leon fought the urge to boast to his coworkers, who glared at him in envy as he walked past. He couldn’t help but notice that a few watched him almost worriedly. Wait—had he done something wrong? Was he being fired?

“Close the door, Leon.” Hunnigan ordered the instant they stepped inside her office.

Leon closed the door with a hand that shook. Luckily, Hunnigan’s back was to him—for now. He hid his hand behind his back, then, realizing he’d look like he was hiding something—or worse, scratching his ass—clenched it into a fist.

“Have I done something bad?” He asked. “Are you going to punish me?”

“Don’t be nervous.”

“How did you—”

“Because you always flirt with me whenever you’re nervous.”

She was right—once someone had threatened to bomb their base and, as if by instinct, Leon had asked Hunnigan for her number.

“You already have it.” She'd reminded him.

“Yeah, your _work_ number. What I’m asking for is your personal number.”

She never gave it to him, nor was their base bombed. Turned out it’d been a drill all along.

Oh, well. She was only cute without her glasses, anyway.

“If I’m not being fired, then what the hell am I in here for?”

“You’re being given a new suspect.” Hunnigan tapped on her tablet a few times before handing it to Leon. “Ada Wong, a thirty-one-year-old female of Asian descent. Actually, we have no way of knowing if that’s even her real name, as very little is known about her. We have reason to believe she’s a felon. It’s possible she changed her birth name, whatever it was, to Ada Wong after committing a crime, and has been using that pseudonym ever since.”

Leon skimmed her profile, swiped through the few pictures the FBI database had of her. Her hair was raven black and barely longer than his. Her bangs were well-kept and swept across her alabaster forehead. She was wearing a red dress and black tights in every picture, as well as high heels that Leon couldn’t imagine running in, much less walking. Either she wore that outfit daily or all the pictures of her were taken on the same day. The latter seemed more likely: only thirty-somethings who lived in their mothers’ basements and had beards that extended well past their chins wore the same thing every day, and this Ada looked like she smelled of perfume and roses rather than Cheeto dust and Red Bull.

Her beauty almost made Leon forget his fury at having not gotten the promotion he’d been expecting. Almost.

“She reminds me more of a spy.” Leon remarked.

“Well, we want you to keep an eye on her, whatever she is. Your investigation of her begins tomorrow morning.” Hunnigan snatched her tablet from Leon’s hands. “That’s all. You can return to the break room now.”

Leon’s own tablet suddenly beeped. He unlocked it to find that Brett had awoken from his nap.

“Or you can get back to work.”

Leon sighed. _Could this day get any worse?_ “Yes, ma’am.”

* * *

Half a world away, Ada Wong was scattering the ashes of Marcus Swanson, her latest victim, into the sea when her phone buzzed with a video call.

She answered it without so much as a glance at the caller ID. She knew instantly who it was. There was only one person who bothered calling her…

“What is it, Wesker.”

“I trust Krauser has disposed of Mr. Swanson?” Her boss asked. As always, he was wearing sunglasses. Ada was glad she’d remembered to bring hers; the Indian sun was unforgiving.

“He has. I’m just finishing up the job.” She said. “Couldn’t you have called him?”

He ignored her. “You have a new target.” Wesker’s expressionless face was replaced with one that was far less unreadable—and far handsomer. “Agent Leon S. Kennedy, age twenty-seven, Caucasian male.”

Ada was three years his senior. Good. She quite liked working with younger men. She found they were more gullible, more likely to fall for a mysterious stranger such as herself. Not to mention, there was a much smaller chance they were married and had children. Not that that had ever been a problem, of course—Ada had managed to seduce even the most faithful of men. And occasionally women.

None of the men (and women) she’d seduced over the years had been quite as attractive as Leon, however: his chestnut hair was styled in a side part with bangs on the left side of his chiseled face. It looked impossibly soft; Ada couldn’t wait to run her fingers through it.

His face was clean-shaven, though Ada reckoned he wouldn’t look half bad with a little stubble. He wore a muscle shirt that shaped his toned abdomen and exposed his arms, which were well-muscled but not overly so like Krauser’s. His eyes were as blue as the sea she’d just dumped a man’s ashes into.

In other words, he looked like a man she wouldn’t mind playing with for a few weeks. Or months. Not years, though; Ada’s job prevented her from doing many things. Like settling down.

Wesker continued, “He has been tasked with ‘keeping tabs on you,’ which, as you know, is a nicer way of saying ‘watching you without your consent.’”

Ada knew all about the FBI and its… _questionable_ practices. Not that her job was any different—she too observed people, got close enough to them to get what she (Wesker) wanted, then had them taken care of. Only difference was she observed them up close and not through a screen.

Wesker’s face reappeared. “He hasn’t been working for the FBI for very long, so no one will mourn him when you eventually eliminate him.”

Ada felt her boss’ words before she heard them. _“You?”_ Krauser was the one in charge of killing her targets. Ada simply pretended to be their lover for a few weeks, or however long it took for them to reveal to her the information Wesker had been seeking. Once a man had divulged information within minutes. Krauser had disposed of him just as quickly; masquerading as a jealous ex-lover of Ada’s, he’d broken into the man’s McMansion and slit his throat with the knife he’d used to carve the filet mignon at dinner.

She hadn’t even needed to sleep with the man, an aspect Ada had been immensely grateful for—her suspects were terrible at sex. Probably because they only cared about pleasing themselves, not her. Sex, Ada figured, was a two-way street: it was pointless if both parties weren’t left satisfied.

But Leon, Leon looked like he knew how to please a woman. To distract herself from the fact that she’d have to be the one to kill him, she thought about the various ways he might please her, and she him.

“Yes, you. You can’t count on Jack forever, you know. Our job’s a dangerous one. Sooner or later he’ll be caught and killed. Yes, you’ll get a new partner if that happens, but you need to learn how to kill regardless. It’s a crucial skill in our line of work.”

“I know how to kill.” Ada insisted. But just because she knew how didn’t mean she could.

She quickly changed the subject. “What ‘terrible’ things has this Leon guy done, anyway?” Leon didn’t look like the selfish type. He looked considerate, honorable even. But Ada knew better than most that looks could be deceiving.

“He works for the American government.” Wesker replied. “Isn’t that reason enough?”

Ada couldn’t argue with that.

“Your new assignment begins first thing tomorrow morning. I’ll send a jet your way at once.” Her boss said, which, in Wesker-speak, meant goodbye.

Ada waited patiently at the dock for Wesker’s private jet to land. The jet was a perk of her job—the only perk. It flew much faster than a standard plane, the food onboard was far better, and most importantly, it kept her hidden from the U.S. government.

Or so she’d thought.

The jet landed, attracting the attention of several tourists. They eyed Ada enviously as she boarded. _If only they knew,_ She thought, _what my life’s really like._

Although she’d never admit it, she longed to be like them. Ordinary. Dull. Anything but who she was, who she’d been for as long as she could remember: a manipulator, a liar. She was no better than the gullible sons of bitches she conned, really.

Ada watched them longingly through the window as the jet took off, the Indian Ocean growing ever smaller behind her.


	2. leave your number on the locker and i'll give you a call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for updating later than I said I would, I was going through some shit :/ also I played re 2 remake for a 4th time & Leon is so babey I just wanna pinch his cheeks & make him hot chocolate  
> Meanwhile I wanna do not so wholesome things to re 4 & damnation Leon ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) this chapter is literally me talking about Leon's hotness in Ada's POV for like 2k. oh & it's crucial to the plot too ig  
> There's smut but it's not very detailed bc I can't write smut I barely read it & I wanna keep that M rating ya feel me? I couldn't help myself I'm so thirsty for Leon send help  
> Chapter title comes from "Andy, You're A Star" by The Killers!

“What’s Ada doing now?”

“Same thing since you called five minutes ago, Leon: driving. Try to relax, will you?”

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

“Easy for you to say.” Leon muttered. He put his earbuds in and walked towards the treadmill, nineties rock pounding in his ears and gym bag slung over his shoulder.

As he stretched, his mind wandered, conjuring up possible places Ada could be driving to. To a house that wasn’t hers with the intention of robbing it? To a hidden alleyway with the intention of selling illegal drugs to children? To the White House with the intention of assassinating the president and his cabinet?

It was also just as likely that she was driving to the cinema to catch the latest superhero movie.

 _Fuck,_ Leon thought. It was his day off; he didn’t get enough of those. He ought to spend it relaxing.

Leon’s idea of relaxing was exercising, and so he stepped on the treadmill and ran until his calves ached. He rested and rehydrated before lying on a weight bench, raising the hundred-pound dumbbell above him with a grunt. Savage Garden was interrupted, suddenly and rudely, by an incoming call from Helena.

After holding the dumbbell for half a minute, he set it in the middle rack and sat up to fish his phone out of the back pocket of his sweats. “What.”

“Ada, she’s—”

“That shirt of yours is drenched in sweat.” A voice as seductive as the woman it belonged to said. Leon was glad he’d set the dumbbell back in place; he might’ve dropped it otherwise. “Must be distracting. I’d take it off if I were you.”

* * *

Ada was as surprised as Leon.

Well, almost.

She’d come to the gym Wesker had said he frequented on his days off, half-expecting to find him there. Unlike Leon, she wasn’t equipped with technology that enabled her to track his every move. She’d come here on only a hunch and yet she’d found him, lifting weights like it was the easiest thing in the world to him. Probably because it was.

“No offense, but I don’t like it when women tell me what to do.” Ada almost scoffed. Wasn’t his boss a woman? “But if you insist…” He removed his shirt, tossing it into his agape gym bag along with his phone. He sat fully upright and took a swig of water, not once taking his eyes off her. He swallowed, wiped his mouth with his hand. “I’d suggest you remove your shirt as well, but the gym staff probably won’t take kindly to that.”

“Probably not.”

Ada pulled her tank top over her head anyway, revealing a black sports bra and muscled abdomen. Leon inspected the latter and hummed in acknowledgement. “You’re stronger than you look.”

“I could say the same of you.” From a distance Leon looked lithe, but up close he looked strong, strong enough to crush her if the need arose.

(Ada hoped it wouldn’t.)

She knew he was strong—she’d seen his profile after all—but there was a difference between seeing someone’s picture and seeing them in person, the difference being a picture only showed so little. While the shirt he’d worn in the picture outlined his six-pack, it had obscured it, much to Ada’s dismay. It was completely unobscured now; his chest glistened with a thick layer of sweat, leaving much to the imagination. Lying down, he resumed lifting the dumbbell. Ada stood behind him and watched his chest contract in tandem with his breathing.

As Leon moved to set the dumbbell into one of the racks, Ada took it from him, swearing upon realizing just how heavy it was—apparently she’d overestimated her strength.

Leon grabbed it before her arms could give out and placed it carefully into the lowest rack. “You trying to kill me, woman?”

 _Funny story about that, actually._ “Maybe.”

Leon jerked his head towards the smaller weights across the room. “It might be better—safer—for you to use lighter ones.”

“Or we can work out together.” Ada suggested.

Leon slid out from under the dumbbell and stood to his full height. 5’11”, according to his profile. 165 pounds, too, though Ada could tell most of that was pure muscle. He put on a clean shirt and picked up his gym bag, extending his arm in the direction of the yoga mats. “Lead the way.”

Ada sauntered towards the mats, her hips swaying. Not too much to sate him, but enough to leave him wanting more. Behind her, Leon cleared his throat.

“Hey, I never got your name.”

“Ada.” Why use an alias when he already knew her name? “And yours?”

“Leon.”

“I like it. It’s very—masculine.”

“Thanks. It was my grandfather’s.”

“That’s odd, mine was my great-grandmother’s.”

Ada didn’t have a great-grandparents, let alone parents. But Leon didn’t need to know that.

They arrived at the yoga mats, depositing their bags on the floor before claiming a mat—Leon blue, Ada red. They did some post-workout stretches on their respective mats, then Ada crawled onto Leon’s and whispered into his ear, “When I said work out together, I meant _actually_ work out together.”

She pulled away, rolling onto her mat and doing a push-up. Leon held her ankles as she pushed up, down, up, down. A side glance confirmed he was checking out her ass, wonderfully shaped by her leggings.

“Like what you see?”

He cleared his throat; it deeply pleased Ada to know he wasn’t as confident as he seemed. “Just keep doing push-ups, woman.”

He held them until Ada lowered herself to the ground entirely. They switched; Ada gripped Leon’s ankles as he did push-up after push-up. Though his sweatpants weren’t nearly as form-fitting as her leggings, she could still make out the shape of his ass underneath the fabric.

“Like what you see?” He echoed.

Ada squeezed his ankles. “Just keep doing push-ups, handsome.”

He rushed through the rest. No sooner had Ada lowered his legs than his warm breath tickled her ear. “How about we do a more… _intimate_ form of cardio.”

Ada shivered, then again as his cool hand touched the small of her back, leading her towards the locker room.

“No one’s ever in the men’s locker room.” He said after making sure no one was watching them. “Trust me.”

“So I’m not the first woman you’ve taken to the locker room?” Her lower lip protruded in a pout. “And here I thought I was special.”

“You are.” He slipped his hand into the waistband of her leggings, then her panties, the lace of which he traced with a finger. “It’s just that sometimes I go in there to…” He mimed masturbating with the hand that wasn’t in her panties.

“You naughty boy!” She gasped.

He removed his hand from her leggings and gave her ass a hard slap. “You have no idea.”

The door was only half-shut when their lips collided, violently. Leon hoisted Ada by her shoulders, pinning her against the now shut door. Her legs coiled around his waist, pulling him impossibly close. He pried his mouth from hers with a wet smack and carried her to a bench. As he lowered her onto it, Ada toed the bulge in his sweatpants, savoring the whimper that escaped from back of his throat.

The cold metal of the bench contrasted with the stuffiness of the locker room, Ada noticed. Leon untied her sneakers and flung them aside. He removed her sports bra, freeing her breasts; he twisted her left nipple with his teeth. Ada gasped. He was skilled, unlike the men she usually slept with.

But she wasn’t about to sleep with Leon, was she? No, sleeping together implied there was a bed involved, and there wasn’t a bed to be found in the locker room, or gym for that matter.

They were about to fuck, plain and simple.

She slipped out of her leggings and panties, tossing both into the pile he’d created. He kissed her again, hungrily, his fringe of bangs brushing her left temple as he murmured into her mouth, “Eager, are we?”

In one swift motion, she flipped him onto his back and yanked off his shirt. “You have no idea.”

His sweatpants were the next to go; she undid the drawstring in less than a second. All that remained now were his boxers. She tossed these aside, too, not caring where they landed.

His penis was above average in length, and girthy, too. She stroked it until it became completely erect and its tip was slick with precum. She fumbled in her gym bag for a condom; his cock twitched as she slipped it on.

His full lips twisted into a smug grin. “How thoughtful.”

She chucked the wrapper into the bag. “A girl’s gotta be prepared.”

Slowly, she lowered herself onto his penis. She couldn’t stifle the groan that escaped her lips—it felt fucking divine _,_ him deep inside of her.

He moaned, softly—apparently the feeling was mutual. Ada got straight to work, fucking him slowly at first then faster, rougher, his hips bucking against hers.

“Ada, please,” He gasped some time later. “I’m gonna—”

He looked so vulnerable and weak with his hair splayed across the metal and his eyes squeezed shut, not at all like the cocky Leon that had slapped her ass and slammed her against a door earlier. This was another perk of her job—bringing men who thought they were gods to their knees. Often literally.

Also, it turned Ada on to an insane degree; she could feel her own release coming. She rolled her hips one last time and he came, hard. He screamed her name and she came, too, crumpling onto his chest.

Minutes later, he squirmed beneath her, and she slid out of him and stood up to gather her clothes.

“I’m gonna take a shower.” He said, his voice deep, unfamiliar. They hadn’t spoken afterwards as she lay on his chest, his heart beating against her cheek. She’d nearly forgotten what he sounded like. Funny how fucking someone’s brains out could make you lose yours as well.

“I would join you, but I’m afraid I have somewhere else I need to be.”

He turned around, giving her a full view of his ass, and began walking towards the showers. Ada hadn’t seen his ass until now. It was firm like the rest of him, and finely shaped for a man. “What could be more important than showering with me?” He called.

“You’d be surprised.”

She didn’t have anywhere she needed to be, actually. This was simply how she worked—she left men and women so infatuated they wanted seconds, thirds, fourths. They always wanted more. Leon was clearly no exception—it hadn’t been ten minutes and already he was begging for me. His offer to “shower” was tempting, Ada had to admit. Maybe this time she’d let him take the lead…

No. She couldn’t sate him, not until she gathered everything she could on him anyway. He was just going to have to starve like the rest of them.

“Your loss.”

Ada waited until she heard the sound of hissing water and Leon humming a song she vaguely recognized to leave, but not before leaving something on one of the lockers first…

* * *

Leon hadn’t come that fast since his first time, or that hard since…well, ever.

He knew she’d decline, but still, it would’ve been nice to show her how long he could last when he was the one in control. Oh, well. There’d be a next time.

Right?

 _Should’ve asked for her number,_ He thought as he rinsed himself off. His hair dripping wet, he turned off the faucet, drying his hands with a towel before fishing his phone out of his gym bag.

 _Helena, 5 missed calls,_ It read.

Fuck.

He wrapped a towel around his waist as he waited for her to answer; she picked up on the third ring.

“Leon! Oh thank God—are you okay?”

“Never been better.”

“Did you get any intel on Ada?”

“I know she likes it rough, for starters.”

“Wait. You _fucked_ her?”

“It was the other way around, if you wanna get technical about it.”

“What the hell were you thinking, Leon?”

Leon put his phone on speaker and set it on a bench so he could towel dry his hair. “She clearly seduces people for a living. I was simply making her job easier.”

“Her job, or yours?”

Leon didn’t have a response to that.

“Did you get her number at least?”

Leon looked up and lo and behold, there it was on a locker, followed by the words _There’s more where that come from._ Both phone number and message were written in black Sharpie. The janitors would be getting in some overtime tonight.

“As a matter of fact, I did.”


	3. and i'm possessive, it isn't nice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the four month wait! lockdown thanos'd my energy & motivation to do anything but play video games & watch youtube lol. i've been slowly getting my motivation back, though. hope you're all safe & healthy!  
> (chapter title comes from "lay all your love on me" by ABBA, btw!)

Leon was the center of attention at work the next morning.

His male coworkers either hounded him with questions, congratulated him, or simply winked at him from afar. The women, on the other hand, either scowled at him or took a sudden interest in him and licked their lips overtly whenever he met their gaze.

Work was going to be longer than usual today, it seemed.

“What was it like?” One of the men who’d winked at him asked, his eyes and mouth wide in anticipation. Leon stepped back in case he began to drool.

Remembering he’d never said a word to him until today, Leon replied, “It’s classified” and walked towards the break room so he could call Helena.

Once there, he shut the door and dialed Helena’s number. “Did you tell them?” He asked the instant she picked up. “Because no one at work will leave me alone.”

“I told Hunnigan. She needs to know every detail about our investigations, you know. Even the more… _personal_ ones.”

“Was anyone else with you?”

“What? No. Someone must’ve overheard. Hunnigan’s office isn’t exactly soundproof. Why are you so concerned, anyway? Don’t men love boasting about getting laid?”

“Well, yeah, but—” A coworker was pointing at him and talking to his friend. Leon closed the blinds, then turned his back for good measure. “Not me. More importantly, is Hunnigan mad?”

“Gotta go. Deborah’s calling.”

“Great,” Leon muttered. “Guess I’ll ask her myself.”

He began walking to his boss’ office, ignoring every hoot and holler his coworkers sent his way.

“Aww, were you calling her?” Someone cooed. “How sweet!”

Leon walked faster.

He practically slammed the door to Hunnigan’s office, only to regret it. If him sleeping with his target didn’t anger her, then breaking her door certainly would.

“What is it, Agent Kennedy?” His boss asked, not even bothering to look away from her computer.

“Agent Harper informed me that she filled you in on what happened yesterday.”

“She did.”

“And?”

Hunnigan turned her computer monitor to the side and looked at Leon instead. “And what, Leon?”

“Are you mad that my suspect and I…you know…” He made the hand gesture that indicated sex, then placed his palm on her desk and leaned forward. “Or are you jealous?”

“No, and no. It’s good that you slept with her, actually.”

“What?”

“You said so yourself that seduction is a part of her job. Whether you know it or not, you are now one step closer to finding out what she truly does for a living. Helena mentioned you got her number?”

“Huh? Oh y-yeah, I did.”

“Call or text her. Ask her to dinner. That is an order, Agent Kennedy.” Hunnigan resumed typing away at her computer.

“Yes, ma’am.” Leon was certain no one had ever been given a more peculiar command.

He returned to the break room. Someone had opened the blinds; he closed them again.

He texted Ada: _Dinner at my place tonight?_

Leon pocketed his phone and walked back to his desk. He wasn’t about to wait idly for a reply—he had work to do. And besides, Ada struck him as the type of woman who’d text back hours later with a simple “K.”

Actually, she struck him more as the type of woman who wouldn’t text back at all. He imagined himself coming home after his shift to find her in his apartment, wearing nothing but a smile…

_Bzz._

Or maybe she was the type of woman who replied immediately.

He unpocketed his phone to find that Ada hadn’t texted him, Claire had.

_You still on for pizza at 7 with me and Sherry?_

Shit. He’d totally forgotten he had plans with Claire and Sherry. Although they were neighbors, their conflicting work schedules made hanging out a near impossible task. It had been so long since he saw them last, he couldn’t just cancel. Plus, there was Sherry to think about. Leon babysat her whenever something came up at Claire’s work. She’d told him once that he was a better dad than her father was before he died.

He was still formulating a response when he received another message, this one from Ada.

_Be there at 8 ;)_

Leon weighed his options. A fancy dinner with a lady in red or greasy pizza with aforementioned lady and his neighbor and her adopted daughter, who viewed Leon as the father she never truly had.

He opened Ada’s message. _How does 7 sound?_

* * *

Ada arrived at Leon’s apartment at 7 on the dot. Punctuality was expected in almost every line of work. Even hers.

He opened the door; he visibly tensed up when he saw her choice of attire: a bloodred miniskirt with a sleeveless black button-down and heels. He glanced down at his own outfit—a long-sleeved indigo Henley with all three of its buttons undone and jeans—and chuckled.

“Am I overdressed?”

Leon tied the laces of his black combat boots and joined her in the hall. “A little.”

She linked her arm in his and began walking. The _click clank_ of her heels echoed in the otherwise empty hallway. “So, which place did you have in mind?”

“ _Restaurante de_ Redfield.”

“Hm. Don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.”

He stopped in front of the neighboring apartment and rang the doorbell. “You wouldn’t have.”

A little girl with blonde hair tucked into a messy bun opened the door, her face brightening at the sight of Leon. “Leon!” Ignoring Ada, she lunged forward to hug his waist. Ada stuck her foot between the door before it could close.

Leon ruffled the girl’s hair, causing even more of it to unravel from her bun. The girl was unbothered by this. Ada longed to be a little girl again, to not have to worry about hair, makeup, work, anything. She’d spent an hour on her hair and already she could feel it losing its sleekness.

“Hey, Sherry. Is it alright if my friend joins us?”

“That’s fine. Means we’ll have less leftovers.” Now she looked at Ada. “You’re pretty.”

Ada had had dozens of men and women compliment her throughout her life, but for some reason Sherry addressing her beauty felt…different. As though it was the first compliment she’d ever received. “Thank you.” She told the girl.

Leon stepped inside the apartment, and Sherry and Ada followed. Immediately the scent of cookies, fresh out of the oven, filled Ada’s nose. Her stomach rumbled; she hadn’t had cookies, the homemade kind anyway, in years. A young woman with auburn hair tied back in a ponytail emerged from the kitchen. “Thought you were the pizza man.”

Again Ada’s stomach rumbled. Ordering pizza was risky when your entire life, especially your name and address, was a lie. Whenever Ada had a craving she’d pick up a frozen pizza from the supermarket, but she’d take restaurant-made over store bought any day.

“Hey, Claire.” Leon said. “Do you mind having an extra guest? Sherry said she didn’t.”

“I don’t mind. You never told me you had a girlfriend.”

“We, uh, we met just recently.”

“I want Leon to be Mommy’s boyfriend, but she says she just sees him as a friend.” Sherry told Ada.

“Sherry!” Claire scolded, laughing.

She was still laughing when the doorbell rang. “Now _that’s_ the pizza man.”

While Claire was paying for the pizza, Ada remembered something her boss had said: _He hasn’t been working for the FBI for very long, so no one will mourn him when you eventually eliminate him._ No one in the FBI would miss him if— _when—_ he died, but Claire and Sherry certainly would. She pictured the two being woken in the middle of the night by a knock on the door. Pictured a policeman or paramedic informing them that their neighbor had died. Pictured Sherry crumpling to the ground at the realization that she had lost yet another parental figure. Realized that she didn’t quite like this possible scenario.

Only it wasn’t possible, it was definite. As a rule, she never grew attached to her clients; it would further complicate her job. But she was beginning to tolerate Leon, like him, even. Which was bad.

Claire returned with the pizza and set it on the kitchen table. Unable to wait for the plates to be distributed, Sherry cracked open the box and snatched a slice. Claire quickly planted a napkin on her daughter’s placemat so something other than the wood of the table would catch the tomato sauce when it inevitably fell.

It wasn’t until Claire distributed the plates that everyone else dug in. “So,” Claire said as she was reaching for her second slice of pizza, “How did you two lovebirds meet?”

Ada and Leon exchanged glances, both their mouths full of cheese and pepperoni. The circumstances under which they met weren’t exactly child friendly. Eventually Ada swallowed and managed, “We met at the gym,” which was mostly true.

“Really?” Claire asked. “No offense, um…sorry, I don’t believe Leon told me your name.”

“It’s Ada,” She and Leon said at the same time.

“Pleased to meet you, Ada. Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yeah. No offense, not that I’m very muscular myself, but you don’t strike me as the athletic type.”

Ada took a swig of water; the other beverage options at _Restaurante de_ Redfield were beer and Capri-Sun. Leon and Claire had chosen the former and Sherry the latter, naturally. “I work out when I can.”

To her relief, Claire didn’t ask Ada any more questions. The remainder of the meal consisted of Sherry telling Leon all about her school’s science fair, for which she’d won second place.

“I’m proud of you.” He said. Ada could tell by Leon’s smile and the way his voice softened that he hadn’t said it because he felt obligated to say something nice; he’d truly meant it.

After dinner they watched a movie. Ada and Claire sat on the couch while Leon sat on the floor with Sherry in his lap. Ada had to admit, she was kind of jealous.

Around the halfway point, Sherry crawled out of Leon’s lap and began to style Leon’s hair with bows and bobby pins. Instead of protesting like Ada thought he would (he probably spent longer on his hair than she had on hers), he let her, even lowering or tilting his head whenever Sherry told him to. Eventually this tired the girl, as she was slumped against him before the end credits, snoring softly. Carefully so as not to wake her, Leon scooped the girl in his arms and carried her to her bedroom.

Claire waited until Leon returned to force a yawn. “You two probably don’t want me intruding on your date any longer. You’re free to go.”

Leon pulled a heart-shaped bobby pin from his hair. “It’s fine—”

“No, I insist.” Claire said as she led them to the door. “You guys have fun. But not too much fun—these walls are thinner than you think.”

The look she gave Leon—teasing yet slightly serious—suggested she’d been woken on numerous occasions by Leon having an amorous exchange next door. Again Ada was envious, this time at the women who’d been with Leon in the biblical sense before her. She knew she was being stupid—it was impossible for a man as handsome as Leon to be a virgin at twenty-seven—and yet, she couldn’t quell the jealousy that arose in her when she imagined Leon inside of any other woman but her.

After Leon and Claire said their goodbyes, he and Ada embarked on the five-step journey to his apartment. Once they were inside, Leon locked the door. He kicked off his boots. Ada stepped out of her heels.

The bows and bobby pins Sherry had scattered throughout his hair remained intact. Leon noticed Ada admiring the girl’s handiwork and began to pull one from his hair. She touched his hand, stopping him. “Don’t. It’s a good look on you.”

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Sorry. You know, for dragging you along to my neighbor’s. I forgot that I had plans with Claire and Sherry tonight, and I couldn’t bring myself to cancel on them last minute.”

“Don’t be. I had fun.” She had, actually. “That girl really likes you.”

“Yeah. She’s had it rough, though you’d never guess it. Long story short, I’m the only father figure she’s got. Claire’s not her biological mother, but from what Claire’s told me, she’s a better mother than Sherry’s birth mother ever was. Sherry, she’s…” He paused for a moment before continuing, “A couple years ago, I was going through a rough patch. Drinking too much, only getting out of bed to piss and grab more booze, etc. The day Claire and Sherry moved in next door, they brought me cookies. Like an idiot I asked, ‘Shouldn’t our roles be reversed?’ And instead of slamming the door in my face, Claire said, ‘The landlord mentioned you hadn’t left your apartment in weeks, so my daughter Sherry assumed you were sick and insisted she make you cookies to cheer you up.

“After that, they came back every day with cookies or other baked goods and ate them at the table with me. This continued until I was feeling mentally well enough to be a productive member of society again. Honestly, if it weren’t for them, Sherry especially, I would’ve offed myself.”

Ada was silent. What could she possibly say? _I’m sorry? I had no idea?_

She settled for silence, which was better than either of those combined.

“Sorry. I don’t usually reveal this much personal information on the first date. Hell, I don’t usually date.”

This made Ada feel better, about Leon’s previous sexual trysts anyway. As for what he’d just confessed, well, it made her feel even worse about his inevitable death and the fact that she would be the one to pull the trigger.

“Anyway…” Leon’s left hand snaked up Ada’s skirt; the right he used to curl around her waist and pull her towards him. “Now that we’re alone…”

He leaned in to kiss her. Ada turned her head just in time; his lips collided with her cheek instead.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, then frowned. “It’s my pizza-and-beer breath, isn’t it.”

That, and Ada feared that if Leon kissed her, she’d go from liking him, to possibly loving him.

He made for the bathroom. “I’ll brush my teeth.” There were the sounds of water running and a drawer opening and closing.

Ada picked up her heels and hurriedly crammed her feet into them. No sooner had she done this than she snuck out the door, leaving it slightly ajar; Leon had turned the faucet off. She called the elevator, stepped inside, hit the lowest button.

Leon, his breath now minty fresh, stumbled into the hallway just as the elevator doors were closing.

Ada waved.

**Author's Note:**

> chapter title comes from "wild" by troye sivan. chapter 2 should be up shortly!


End file.
